Looking Glasses
by Keira-Hime
Summary: For one summer, a small lifetime of 60 odd days, Kyoya is unwanted. Castaway, without money in his pocket or a clue how to deal with it-he turns to someone who might. Simply a story of dealing with life, and everything that comes with it. Kyoya X Haruhi. Rating May Change Due to Mature Themes.
1. A Prolouge of Sorts

**Reuploaded... again. Sorry, it makes me cringe when I look at a chapter and I see things that should be changed.**

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The two had sat in silence, waiting for their counterpart to falter. Neither quite have the time for this blast of teenage rebellion, though neither can come to deny it.

_In this fight, we all may hope for the hero to win, but reason begs to differ._

"Father," Fuyumi breaks the silence, the activist in a two person war. She sits up in her chair, the plush cushioning her all too securely, curling around her legs and trapping her in place.

"Fuyumi," her father replies. "What may bring you into my office?" His features say nothing, but his face a story that lies in the spider webbing lines painting his fading complexion, a mosaic of stress and the weight of the world etched in pigmented skin. It is a story of graying hairs and weakening bones, popping veins and buckling knees.

"You know what," she growls.

"I can't say I do," he replies, eyes flicking to trivial things scattering his desk.

She slams her fist on the wood. "How can you do something like, like _this_to your own son! It's cruel, and viscous. It's inhuman!"

"Fuyumi," Yoshio purrs, unaffected by her rambling stupor. "You haven't changed a bit... you've always been one to throw a tantrum. You used to be… untamable."

"You can't throw him out like this," Fuyumi narrows her eyes, far graduated from the batting eyelashes and sickeningly sweet smiles she'd used to win people over throughout her childhood.

"It's for his own good," Yoshio simply replies, as if there is nothing more to such a thick subject.

"_How_could this possibly be for good, for _any_kind of good! You're sending your son to the street. Kyoya did nothing wrong, and yet... yet..."

"Fuyumi, my sons have no knowledge of reality. How am I to hand over a company to someone dependent on me—on the money I make and the food I provide? _All_of them suffer. And there is only hope for one. Kyoya."

"You're punishing him for—"

"I am unsure where his abilities lie. Is it his money, or his mind? I know he is brilliant, he surpasses his brothers in many ways, but he lacks in experience. His life has been revolved on one goal and one goal only, and I am questioning his ability to translate himself into many situations, not only ones of mindless facts and science, of fiscal problems and analyzed facts.

"People, he needs to know people. To relate instead of understand, to know the weight of money and how it will flow from people's wallet's, and most of all he must know control. Control is far from restraint, and as of now he knows neither to any great length," the man lets out a wheezing cough, covering his mouth with a shaking hand.

"Irrational, that's the word for you! He's seventeen! How is he to know restraint? Or control? Or the difference? He's changing so much, you know how drastically puberty affects boys..."

"We change many times in our lives, Fuyumi. This change just happens to be hormonal, and one very important one. If he cannot grow from it, he has no business running a company. The matter is settled, and come Sunday, he is not welcome in this house."


	2. And, So It Begins

**Hello! Firstly, I'd like to apologize for the choppiness of this chapter, as well of the short length. Since it's the first chapter, I had to cover some ground so the rest of the story can go smoothly. This would have been out earlier, but my computer deleted the first two drafts of this chapter .. It seems I'm always having computer trouble when starting my stories. And, I lost my laptop, which sucks. **_  
_

**Anyway, thanks for checking my story out, I really appreciate every alert, and review, I get. I'm not sure how In-Character Kyoya and Haruhi are in this chapter, and feel free to tell me if and when you do see it. I'm not sure when the next update will be, since school is almost over and all these finals are happening. Then I'm pretty busy all summer, and then more school... I'll try to make it happen as soon as possible. Feel free to say any flaws or perks, again, I appreciate it. I really am trying to improve and your input helps.**

**So, let's just say, for the story's sake, that summer is three months, instead of the customary one month in Japan (and the remaining two occurring in roughly three month intervals). What I'm planning is too much for one month. I really want to make you see Kyoya, Haruhi, and everyone else differently, to develop them and flesh their characters out, and a month just 'aint gonna cut it! **

**BTW: If anyone didn't realize, anything_ italisized_ is a flashback. **

**I'll try to keep ANs to a minimum after this point, but thanks for reading my rambling!**

**Please read, review, and enjoy. The disclaimer is in my profile, if you are questioning the lack of it here or my credibility as a FanFiction writer.**

**-Faithfully, Keira-Hime**

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_"Haruhi, what are you doing this summer?"_

_ "Dad wants me to go up to Karuizawa again—shouldn't you know that?"_

_ "I do."_

_ "Kyoya-senpai, is something wrong? You've been acting strange today."_

The car glides across the road, hitting bumps as it passes out of Tokyo and into the Japan countryside. Kyoya balances his laptop on his thighs, though for once he is unsure what to do with it, and simply lets the heat seep through his jeans and scald his skin. Haruhi has long abandoned trying to read her book, a heavy volume on theories of law, and rests her head against the window.

"I have a headache," she mutters, silently pressing her fingers to her temple and massaging the skin. She says it to no one in particular, as she'd given up talking to Kyoya forty five minutes ago, after fifteen minutes of awkward small talk.

"If you want relief, you're not going to get it like that."

"How so? Or... not so?" Haruhi scoffs, pressing her fingers to her temple harder.

"Your fingers," he reaches over, lifting her fingers off her face and replacing them slightly to the left. "And you should go slower, too. You'll only cause more of a headache at that speed"

"Thanks," she replies. Her face contorts into a rigid smile, though she lets it relax into a grimace seconds later.

"We'll be in Karuizawa in about an hour and thirteen minutes," the cab driver says. Originally, Ranka was supposed to drive Haruhi, but a 'last minute commitment' came up and he ended up hiring a cab service.

"I wonder what Dad's doing now..." Haruhi ponders aloud, and Kyoya can't help but to think the same thing, as he remembers everything his father said, or more precisely, what he didn't: why.

–

_"You need a place to stay—well, I think Misuzu is looking for some more help—he says the business has really picked up."_

_ "Haruhi, I don't think I can intrude on your vacation."_

_ "Intrude? I'm inviting you. Consider it a favor, after this year. You really helped me out this year, I don't think you know it."_

_ "Under one condition, Haruhi: no one finds out."_

"Oh, lovely!" Misuzu steps out of the pension, greeting Haruhi in a sweeping embrace. "Have you grown? Did you go up a cup size? Your hair looks so different—did you cut it? Highlights?" The transvestite rambles in his fraudulent feminine accent.

"Thank you for having me," Kyoya nods, as not to severly interrupt the reuinion.

"Kyoya, thank _y__ou. _People were starting to _wonder _where the refreshing boys on the cover of our catalog was!" To demonstrate, Misuzu pulls a pamphlet out of a pocket of his apron, featuring a shot of the twins, Hani, and Mori eating breakfast with yellow letters on the top advertizing _Pension Misuzu—Have A Refreshing Vacation!_ As Misuzu continued to pester and plod at Haruhi, Kyoya flips open the pamphlet. There is a picture of Haruhi in her apron, holding a bowl of watermelon in her hands and below it praise from websites, blogs, and anonymous satisfied customers. It summarizes the breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, and tea menus, boasts about rooms and even claims free Wi-Fi, which Kyoya is amused to find a picture of him tentatively typing on his laptop. There are pictures of Tamaki playing the piano, Arai delivering produce, a couple haivng tea, and Misuzu himself serving customers.

"A catalog? Since when?" Haruhi looks over another one of the pamphlets.

"Your papa was the one who told me to—God knows I didn't want anything to do with it. 'No-Sir-ee' I said. But, look now, business is booming. I'm even considering expanding."

"Good advertizing," Kyoya nods, sarcastically chuckling.

"Yes, yes, I agree. I have a special room for the both of you! Your itineraries are perfected! But, for now, let's just unpack and relax—okay?"

–

_ "It doesn't really concern you, Haruhi."_

_ "If the same thing happened to me, you'd know. I mean... I just want to know why..." _

_ "I simply wasn't needed. Now, if you wouldn't mind, the car is waiting for us."_

_ "Fine, senpai. Whatever you say."_

"_One _room?" Haurhi gapes. "For the two of us?"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. The place is packed, this was the only thing I could find on such short notice. There's a handy little divider here, though. And surely, enough space for the both of you."

Kyoya cautiously sets his laptop on the end table of his side, mute either from a loss of words or recognizing the lack of need for them. He chooses the side farthest from the door, knowing Haruhi has already claimed the side nearest to the door and bathroom.

"I was just hoping for some personal space," Haruhi says irritably.

"I know... When something opens up," Misuzu blindly promises. Haruhi grumbles something incoherent.

"Well, I'm going to unpack," Haruhi says. "And I'd appreciate being left alone, if you wouldn't mind," she tries to politely nod Misuzu out of the door, guilt ridden. "And that means you, too," she mentions to Kyoya, less compassionately, and slams the divider against the opposite wall with a _smack_. "And don't you _dare _come out until after I'm done."

She begins rummaging through her suitcase, picking out the more embarrassing of garments to go in first, such as the frilly bras her father bought her after she said her training bra felt tight, and the matching panties. Grateful the bathroom is on her side, she loads the cabinet with her... feminine hygiene products, hiding them with shampoo bottles and soap. She almost pukes when she sees her dad has replaced her comfortable pajamas with nightgowns and babydolls, and some of her perfectly functional clothing with frothy blouses and dresses, plus those horrible pair of bejeweled jeans that draw _way _too much attention to her backside. Nevertheless, she packs them neatly into the patina sodden dresser.

"Alright in there, _Haruhi_?" Kyoya mocks, hearing her banging and muttering.

"Just fine, thank you," she folds the remainder of her clothing into the drawers, throwing a hairbrush, deodorant, and—perfume (when did that get there?), on the top of her dresser. She opens the divider to see Kyoya has done the same, except, perhaps, he was a little less flustered. He's changed into a vest that's first buttons are undone, and black Bermuda shorts with chains in the belt loops.

"I could have been changing, you know," he smirks.

"You know, I don't consider it a sign of gratification when you poke fun at me."

"I wasn't asking you to."

"Look," Haruhi says, though no words come out of her mouth.

"Yes, Haruhi?"

"I... think I forgot something at home. I'm going to go to town and get a replacement..."

"Hmm," Kyoya reclines on the bed, picking up a book from his side and flipping to a bookmarked page. Haruhi walks out, grabbing a small purse on her way out. Some time later, someone joins him.

"...Kyoya?" It is Misuzu, the apron haphazardly fixed on his chest. "I think we have to talk. About Haruhi..."

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_**"Hello, I am the review button. I am calling you to me, I want hugs and such~"**_


	3. Revelation

**Hi! I'm sorry this took so long. I just got out of school today and had the time and sanity to finish this. These past few weekends I've had anime-con and Sleep No More, so I've been busy and on top of that a Regents and final exams. I have camp for five weeks this summer and one definite and one possible vacation, so for camp I can try to update on weekends (no electronics) and I can see how much time I may have on vacation. **

**I also have a Soul Eater One-Shot Series idea and a Legend of Korra idea for FanFiction so I may or may not get to those.**

**So, if you haven't heard, this site is trying to take down a bunch of fanfictions, and I highly suggest you try to do something. If you're interested, I know HitaAndUtaPri got me on to a petition (so contact her if you're interested) and I think June 23 (today) is a blackout day (and I should not be posting but I already started before I realized...) so, uhm... YEAH!**

**Anyway, enjoy. Inform me of my mistakes. Review (oh, please please please)**

**AND REREAD CHAPTER ONE IF YOU HAVEN'T DONE SO. I revamped it because I am insecure...**

**-Keira-Hime**

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Kyoya lifts his eyelids slowly, exposing him to a low wooden ceiling and chipped yellow walls. He lazily rolls over in the bed, feeling stiff from the aberrant mattress. A small alarm clock displays 8:30 in neon green, and he blinks to let the number seep in. _8:30? When was the last time he woke up before 11:00_?

A soft rustle surrounds the house: Haruhi serving breakfast with a clatter of plates, birds singing, towels on a clothing line moved by the wind. The sounds collide into a collective hum, something artistic and unexplainable.

He lifts himself from the mattress, leaving the sheets in a tangled mess as he moves to the bathroom. His hair sticks to the nape of his neck with the humidity of the morning, and sweat falls in blasé beads down his forehead.

He maneuvers through Haruhi's side of the room, impeccably maintained, and into the bathroom. The shower is simple, though he has a hard time placing himself so that the showerhead doesn't hit his head. The water is cold, and the only shampoo is Haruhi's _green jasmine tea_ dollar-store brand with the matching conditioner, which feels heavy on his scalp compared to _his _hair product.

Meanwhile, Haruhi serves breakfast to families and couples, teenagers who want to go home and locals who know Misuzu personally. She'd waken up at six thirty that morning, to see her boss with a large cup of coffee already serving guests.

Kyoya steps out of the shower, adorning himself with a loose-fitting pair of denim 'basketball' shorts, a striped tank top and a washed-out red vest with a barely visible pattern decorating it. His sandals are black, perfectly worn, and ridiculously expensive for their mediocre appearance.

"Kyoya," Haruhi sighs. "Thank God!" She shuffles over to a counter, from which she pulls a plain white apron. "You need to wait tables with me. You can start with that family of six over there and take anyone else who comes from the left side…" she pants, her frilled apron mused on her chest.

"Sure," he nods, remembering his conversation with Misuzu the night before.

_ "About Haruhi?"_

_ "Yes… you know of how she's so ambitious, and she never lets anyone help her with any decisions…"_

_ "Of course…"_

_ "I'm afraid—Oh, look. I think that's Haruhi, coming back from town…"_

"Here's a note-pad," she hands him a small bound book, littered with messy orders. It snaps him out of his reverie, but his curiosity expands still, "Good luck."

"I think I can handle myself, Haruhi…" Kyoya smirks, though his words don't come through as confident as he intends. _What could Misuzu possibly have to talk about… pertaining to Haruhi?_

"I'm not so sure," she chuckles. "They're viscous!" Obviously, she thinks this is rather funny, as she gives a snort-like giggle before walking off towards her side of the dining area. Kyoya slowly makes his way towards the family of six: two affectionate parents, a bored adolescent, twin girls, and a baby in a wooden booster seat.

For the life of him, he tries to remember how waiters in restaurants should act, introduce themselves, and take orders in a commoner's dining place. All that comes to mind is the annoying McDonald's girl from his unfortunate trip to the Izumi Shopping Center, which doesn't give him much to go on.

"Hi," the mother starts, erasing the need for his introduction. "I'd like… two extra-large black coffees. She," she points to the teenager, whose brunette hair is twisted on one of her fingers, "would like water. The twins want chocolate milk and that's it…" The woman talks a mile a minute, taking a bottle from her bag and giving it to the baby, who grabs it eagerly and brings it to his mouth. She returns to her husband as the teenager takes another strand of hair between her fingers. He writes the order down and hands it to the chef, _another _tranny with more piercings than he knows recipes, who nods and hands it off again.

Haurhi juggles two trays, handing off items to tables as she goes along. He ponders helping her, but is stopped by Misuzu, who gestures to the porch of the pension.

"We need to make this quick," he sighs, fixing his apron. "Look, what I started telling you. We need to talk about Haruhi. I think… Haruhi… something happened. I'm not sure where, I'm not sure how. But, I saw… an acceptance letter. To a school. In _Germany_.

"What?" Kyoya asks, thinking there could be no possible explanation for this: just a misunderstanding. It would be easy for Misuzu to mix up schoolwork or some other material with an acceptance letter.

"Kyoya, this isn't some misunderstanding. Haruhi applied for a scholarship to the muiler OCHIS Academy for the intellectually Gifted. And she got it."

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_**"I am the review button,**_

_**I will sing you a song if you press me,**_

_**Except I won't,**_

_**Because I am a Button,**_

_**And cannot sing"**_


	4. Over My Head

**Hello! I'd firstly like to apoligize, this took forever to come out. I finally just sat down and wrote it. So here it is. I'm not thrilled with it, but tell me what you think, don't hold back. If you need to rebel against me for talking so long, you can do so by throwing virtual tomatoes or something (just don't take it out on the reviews if you want more story! You guys keep me going you know!) Unless, of course, you want to kill my review button by reviewing ALOT... I'm okay with that. But, in all seriousness, thanks for sticking with me, I hope you reader people are doing well.**

**I may be going back and editing the previous chapters, if I get stuck writing this. I hope I'm being exciting enough and not writing you a terribly boring story. If i am, let me know.**

**Enjoy the chapter! And thank you to you people who reviewed and didn't get all mad at me for my hiatus. Thanks for the motivation, all of you.**

**Without further ado...**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**(confetti)**

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_In Germany_

_Somewhat before current story_

Their country had been stereotyped a few times too many for Aleida Heintz not to complain about it. Yes, there'd been a Holocaust. Like Germany was the _only _country at fault, the only people to discriminate. One or two bad people stamped with a German surname, and the whole country was shamed. Maybe they had a name for themselves for being headstrong and independent; but, they weren't the heartless, merciless brutes the storybooks made them out to be. It was a culturally rich place, Germany, complete with rolling hills and a gentle factory smoke somewhere outside her penthouse window. She was, as many of her friends called her, a patriot. And she was damned proud.

Her pride and joy was her school, aside from her country that is, she had been divorced a decade and only wished her daughter to graduate from the academy and take over as chairman when Aleida was ready to retire. The academy had become her blood, part of her, and she couldn't imagine being without it.

It was shaped around the ideal image of a wealthy German, sophisticated and strong, a natural leader. She hired teachers from any part of the world, who presented themselves in a neat and ordered manner. Her sister became the Dean of Discipline, she'd ironed out the mannerisms for each student, secretly biasing this rule or that towards the male or female students. All of the students that graduated her school became role models for society; they headed businesses or became trophy wives with a brain in their blonde head, who often wrote books or had TV shows on cable.

She tapped her nails against the desk, leaning back in her chair as she often did when she thought. She met Haruhi Fujioka during a trip to Japan, and she didn't take much interest in her until she learned her story. She couldn't remember the whole thing now, but she was dazzled by her, this Haruhi girl reminded her of herself. So she acted on her impulse and knew she must have this girl attend her school. Of course, Haruhi declined, bantering on her loyalty to her scholarship and that kind of crap.

Aleida almost forgot about Haruhi, until she got a call a week or two back. She mentioned a predicament that was causing her grades to slip, past the level of accepted scholarship. Frantically, she promised that, if she could get some sort of scholarship, the rut would past. She was desperate, really.

With a smile, the chairman stuffed the usual blandly written, legally sound letter of acceptance into an envelope. Haruhi would be a nice addition to the ORCHIS family, with some hair extensions and a wardrobe update, maybe.

Putting the letter to the side, she went back to her slandering and muttering. What a good few weeks it had been.

_Back to regular time_

It was a bit chilly this early in the morning. Haruhi walks through the tall grass that loops behind the pension and down towards the shops downtown. Albeit the cold in her ankles, as her pant legs have become soaked through from the morning fog and dew, she feels good. She knows all she needs is a break, a little quiet to clear her mind.

It's just becoming light out, and noise begins to come into her surroundings, a bird call here or the sounds of a shop preparing for business. She sits in a shaded area overlooking the town, watching a couple dress a mannequin outside of a thrift store. She lays down on the grass, unsure if the sensation is painful or calming. Both, she decides. Numbing.

She remembers vaguely a moment when her mom was alive. She couldn't place the memory, but numb had something to do with it; being numb or feeling numb or—something like that. Her eyes flutter shut, time turns slow and farcically, until the sounds of morning lull her to sleep.

Kyoya wakes with a start, feeling that he's had a bad dream, but not quite remembering much. Without needing to look, he knows the room is empty.

It's the first time he notices how quiet being alone is.

The clock reads six fifty, before the alarm again, and this brings a wave of emotion he bites back. He takes a minute, sits and lets the bed creak under his weight.

The room is empty, and Haruhi is gone. It's quiet and he is suddenly very lonely.

Haruhi cannot leave Ouran and go to Germany.

He stops-

-and falls into laughter, chocking on his breath as he lays on his back.

He didn't sign up for this, no. He signed up for a lousy paycheck and a place to sleep at night. Not an empty room and a lonely mind and some stupidfuckingjuvenilecrapsch oolboycrush.

The alarm blares, which makes him laugh even more. Incomprehensibly, he mutters, "I'm already awake."

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